I have adopted a theory (I say "adopted" instead of "developed" because I'm sure it's not original) that things happen in threes. Not all things, clearly or I have one more child and two more husbands, but some things. Like, for example, death. Death always seems to happen in threes. Illness, likewise, in threes. Recently, I've had a trio of embarrassing moments which I'm hoping to process here, by admitting them to the universe, in order to be able to let them go.
I must mention, firstly, that I don't have a lot of embarrassing moments. Whew. As I'm not one to put myself totally OUT THERE, as it were, I have managed to mitigate the risk. I'm a 4th row bus rider, and middle of the pack party goer, etc....we generally blend in to life enough to avoid taking big risks and therefore are safe from having the opportunities for massive eff-ups.
Sometimes, however, embarrassing moments just seem to find you. I guess it was my turn.
1. While at a road race recently, I (along with majority of my running compatriots) partook of that pre-race necessity that is spending a little anxiety time in the port a potty. I know we've all had the pleasure of partaking of the pots in our lives, but there is something singularly unique about a pre-run pit stop, in that you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, before it's your turn on the throne, what awaits you in there. EVERYONE is nervous. Do the math. Anyhoo. The embarrassing moment came when, as I was "done" but not quite trussed back up after my little spell in the portable toilette, that it turned out the door was not actually locked. So there's that ignisecond where the door opens, you look out, everyone looks in, the door closes. And then there's that much longer ignilifeflashingbeforeyousecond where you think "Maybe I can just stay here, safe, in my little portapotty and never come out and then no one will know it was me...and I'll never have to see those people again." Of course, staying in the portapotty is worse than the shame that awaits me when I leave, so, here I am writing this from the comfort of my desk as opposed to dead at the beach in a warehouse of portapotties somewhere.
2. The second moment also involves my hooha....sadly....which means this is looking like a trend. I was at the gym last night, post workout, post shower, getting dressed in the LADIES LOCKER ROOM. (Can I just stop there because you already know, dear reader, where this is going???) Yes, well, the "other" entrance to the locker room is from the pool side of the facility. The entrance to the ladies and men's rooms from the pool are right next to one another. One could, conceivably, get those two open doorways mixed up. (Sans glasses and sans basic observational instincts...which, we know, is an issue in the male population). So, to save you the suspense, yes, I was surprised by a geographically challenged member of the opposite sex as I attempted to put my clothes on. The upside is that there was a woman between him and me, and I had my hair in a towel and no makeup on, so the chances he'll recognize me again are only about 60% I figure (sadly I don't clean up that well, regardless of the hair drying and the makeup). The downside is I'm not sure how long he stood there trying to figure out why nothing (including my ass) looked familiar to him before I saw him and started to splutter. Yes. I spluttered. I didn't say anything useful like "GET OUT!" I just spluttered. ugh.
3. The THIRD experience sort of involved a hooha...only it wasn't mine, and not directly. This is a mistake I've never made (thought it's been done to me which magnifies my chagrin) but I bumped into a doctor colleague in the hallway recently and said "Oh! When is you baby due?" Of course she'd delivered several weeks prior. ugh. ugh. ugh!!! (At LEAST she wasn't NOT pregnant...that would have been worse, I suppose, but this was pretty bad and now she must hate me and I cannot blame her.)
I hope, dearest God in Heaven, that I'm done with embarrassing moments. Third time's the charm and all that and now I can move on about my business worry free. But, truth be told, I have a bad feeling about this.
I must mention, firstly, that I don't have a lot of embarrassing moments. Whew. As I'm not one to put myself totally OUT THERE, as it were, I have managed to mitigate the risk. I'm a 4th row bus rider, and middle of the pack party goer, etc....we generally blend in to life enough to avoid taking big risks and therefore are safe from having the opportunities for massive eff-ups.
Sometimes, however, embarrassing moments just seem to find you. I guess it was my turn.
1. While at a road race recently, I (along with majority of my running compatriots) partook of that pre-race necessity that is spending a little anxiety time in the port a potty. I know we've all had the pleasure of partaking of the pots in our lives, but there is something singularly unique about a pre-run pit stop, in that you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, before it's your turn on the throne, what awaits you in there. EVERYONE is nervous. Do the math. Anyhoo. The embarrassing moment came when, as I was "done" but not quite trussed back up after my little spell in the portable toilette, that it turned out the door was not actually locked. So there's that ignisecond where the door opens, you look out, everyone looks in, the door closes. And then there's that much longer ignilifeflashingbeforeyousecond where you think "Maybe I can just stay here, safe, in my little portapotty and never come out and then no one will know it was me...and I'll never have to see those people again." Of course, staying in the portapotty is worse than the shame that awaits me when I leave, so, here I am writing this from the comfort of my desk as opposed to dead at the beach in a warehouse of portapotties somewhere.
2. The second moment also involves my hooha....sadly....which means this is looking like a trend. I was at the gym last night, post workout, post shower, getting dressed in the LADIES LOCKER ROOM. (Can I just stop there because you already know, dear reader, where this is going???) Yes, well, the "other" entrance to the locker room is from the pool side of the facility. The entrance to the ladies and men's rooms from the pool are right next to one another. One could, conceivably, get those two open doorways mixed up. (Sans glasses and sans basic observational instincts...which, we know, is an issue in the male population). So, to save you the suspense, yes, I was surprised by a geographically challenged member of the opposite sex as I attempted to put my clothes on. The upside is that there was a woman between him and me, and I had my hair in a towel and no makeup on, so the chances he'll recognize me again are only about 60% I figure (sadly I don't clean up that well, regardless of the hair drying and the makeup). The downside is I'm not sure how long he stood there trying to figure out why nothing (including my ass) looked familiar to him before I saw him and started to splutter. Yes. I spluttered. I didn't say anything useful like "GET OUT!" I just spluttered. ugh.
3. The THIRD experience sort of involved a hooha...only it wasn't mine, and not directly. This is a mistake I've never made (thought it's been done to me which magnifies my chagrin) but I bumped into a doctor colleague in the hallway recently and said "Oh! When is you baby due?" Of course she'd delivered several weeks prior. ugh. ugh. ugh!!! (At LEAST she wasn't NOT pregnant...that would have been worse, I suppose, but this was pretty bad and now she must hate me and I cannot blame her.)
I hope, dearest God in Heaven, that I'm done with embarrassing moments. Third time's the charm and all that and now I can move on about my business worry free. But, truth be told, I have a bad feeling about this.
No comments:
Post a Comment